


that was my face

by smaenchy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Highschool AU, Humanstuck, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sollux Captor/Karkat Vantas - Freeform, Sollux's POV, Sorry Not Sorry, which im not completely sure of yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:09:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaenchy/pseuds/smaenchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mituna sticks his tongue out at you and slug at his shoulder lightly. He shoves you and your arms fly out to the sides.</p><p>Someone's face collides with your elbow and you pull both arms back to yourself and Mituna scurries away. He knows he's done something. He sprints as fast as he can toward the front doors and you move to follow, but there's a tight grip on your arm and you're being tugged at. Fuck.</p><p>When you're spun around, you don't see what you expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is like the first major thing ive ever written. it probably isnt as good as id like it to be, so i apologize!

In front of you stands a tall, lanky boy who looks like he's about eighteen.

That tall, lanky boy is you, and you are not eighteen. You are fifteen. Your name is Sollux Captor and you're a freshman in a dumb high school in a dumb little down.

You stare at your reflection, taking in what you've got. Long legs, a thin figure, and a toned torso. A long face, messy blond hair, an inconveniently huge overbite, and mismatched eyes. One is a striking icy blue while the other is a deep brown, and the contrast seems breathtaking. It's really not.

Moving away from the mirror on your door, you bump into your bedside table. Glasses are a priority here.

"Damnit," you mutter, grabbing the stupid things before you jam them on your face. They're just one solid color and that color is black. Color and designs cramp your style.

If you had a style.

Ten minutes pass and you have a somewhat tamed head of hair, brushed teeth, and decent clothes. You'd pulled on a pair of black jeans and a band tee from Hot Topic, probably. Your socks are always mismatched. It bothers you when they aren't. Today, red and yellow looked nice together.

As you head down the stairs, your older brother Mituna nearly shoves you down.

"There's a stair there," he says with a nearly maniacal cackle. Everything about Mituna is shits and giggles.

Twenty more minutes pass and your hoodie strings are tight in a knot and you're halfway to the school.

"Tuna, fix my goddamned hoodie."

"It's on you."

"But you're the one who tied it," you snap, but you know it's no use anyways. You bat his hands away from your face so you can undo the knot he tied. You hear him giggle and you glare at him under the felt of the hood. He sticks his tongue out at you and slug at his shoulder lightly. He shoves you just as you get the knot undone and your arms fly out to the sides.

Someone's face collides with your elbow and you pull both arms back to yourself and Mituna scurries away. He knows he's done something. He sprints as fast as he can toward the front doors and you move to follow, but there's a tight grip on your arm and you're being tugged at. Fuck.

When you're spun around, you don't see what you expect.

There's a tiny little kid standing there with a death grip on your arm and his stare could probably kill a man. Not before his strength does, though, that fucking hurts. He's got to be only 5'6" tops. A black, baggy sweatshirt has _got_ to be hiding some sheer muscle.

"That was my face," he rasps. His voice is a lot deeper than you'd think. Maybe he's not a prepubescent 7th grader.

"I don't think I noticed," you say with little enthusiasm as you roll your eyes.

"Don't be fucking smart with me." He gives your arm a little push and you stumble backwards a few inches or so.

"Cut it out," you murmur under your breath as you turn away. But no, he reaches up and grabs you by the hood. You just fixed it, too!

"It hurt, you assmuncher." The kid gives your hood a yank and you wheeze, reaching back to try and push him away.

"Leave me the hell alone and don't touch me. Let go. I need to get in there." He doesn't listen.

"Ha. What an excuse! 'I need to get into the school building almost an hour before first period starts.' What are you, one of those fuck-all smart kids who think they're the shit? Lemme tell you, I've had enough of you and your buddies, pal. You guys get annoying as fuck and-"

"No," you say.

"No?"

"Are you deaf?" Heh. Maybe he'll get angry and walk away.

"No, but I'll make sure you are before you leave here." He sure has guts for someone so small.

"What are you going to do - talk me to death?"

That gets you a kick to the back of your knee and a whack to the shoulder. You wince and pull away from his grip, trying to walk away. But he just follows you. What a little shit.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Sollux. And don't introduce yourself. I'll just call you dickweed," you deadpan, staring straight ahead as you walk.

"I'm a freshman."

"More like you're a baby. I'm a sophomore, _dickweed._ How's senior high for you, kiddo?" He sounds a lot more friendly than he did two minutes ago. What's up with this guy?

"Call me kiddo and I'll smash your face in that brick wall over there," you growl under your breath as you give him a shove. He laughs, elbowing you.

"I'd love to see you try, you goddamn stick. I could snap your arms." 

Yeah, you know he could, so you just grunt in acknowledgement and you walk to your locker with Karkat Vantas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry that this took so long! i know people were waiting to read more. i havent forgot about you guus! <3 i got pretty sick for a little while and had projects to work on. ill try to update more frequently!

First period is the worst period. You're half asleep still, cheek pressed against your arm. Usually, you would have your bookbag to rest on, but last month the school banned everyone from carrying bookbags around the halls and into class. Apparently, a group of drug junkies had brought marijuana and the downstairs bathroom was covered in a thick layer of smoke. They got suspended - thank the theoretical gods.

Geography is a pile of shit. Your geography teacher, however, is a significantly smaller pile of shit. He's pretty funny, you have to admit, and he can cheer you up on a good day.

Today has been dubbed as a good day so far, even though there's some split skin and a new bruise forming on the back of your knee where Karkat kicked you. He's strong, really. You actually made a friend today, and it's not that (decent-looking) girl who's captain of the swim team or something who's nice to everyone. He's a guy that can actually come to your house to play video games and dick around with. Maybe you'll even get the blessing of hearing him say "no homo." If he actually says it, ever, you're just going to laugh. And probably get even more gay, just to defy his statement. All the homo, performed by Sollux B. Captor. (The B actually stands for Blair, but you like to think it stands for BEE ARMY. It's much cooler that way.)

Geography feels like it lasts for twenty years. Your teacher goes on and on about parts of Asia which is mostly Russia and the surrounding parts of the C.I.A. He earns a few quiet giggles from the class and sure, you smiled and even laughed once or twice. Probably only once at the actual jokes. The other times you smiled against your hand while thinking about dumb things you and Karkat might do together. Not in the gay way, though. That isn't cool. You just met him.

Once the bell rings, you find yourself hurrying out the door to make it to your locker and grab your things for Geometry. You'd probably already be in something way more advanced for your age, but long story short: you are lazy. Lazy as lazy can be. 

Once your locker comes into view, so does a certain Vantas. You freeze for a minute, get pushed, and then head to your locker.

"Hey," you say as you pull it open, reaching up to jiggle your textbook free from the top shelf. 

"Is that a geometry textbook?" he asks, looking a little stunned. You grab your hundred-something dollar calculator and a pencil before turning to face him.

"Well, yeah. One of these are pretty important for, oh I dunno, taking geometry."

"Like, you have it this period."

"..yes? I'm grabbing this geometry book so I can go to geometry class this period. That's what I'm intending to do. Now I have to hurry up before the bell rings," you add quickly, turning to leave for the geometry classroom. What is this guy's deal, ha ha.

"Well, wait for me," he says behind you, and he shoves past a few people to catch up to you. 

"Do you have class next to me or something?" you ask.

"No, I'm in your class, apparently."

What? Not that it's a big deal, but -- it's a big deal. He, tiny sophomore Karkat Vantas, is in a geometry class with the period mostly full of noisy ninth graders, including yourself. That must _suck._

Twenty minutes pass for the third time today, and you're sitting in a class that Karkat was in. Huh, who knew? Not you, apparently, but there was good reason you've never seen him before. He sits in the back of the room, two rows behind you, and always hunches over the tabletop.

You sit facing the wall. If you turn your head to the left, you can see the front of the room and the board, but your head is currently facing the right. Your eyes are trained on Karkat. His features aren't half bad, really. His nose is sort of snubby, but it's proportionate to his round face. His raven black hair is sort of messy, and his eyebrows are kinda bushy. His eyes are a deep brown, and his skin is tinted a little darker than yours. He's practically the complete opposite of you.

He sets his pencil down and looks up. You've been caught staring.

Turning your head away instantly, you scoot your chair a little to face the front of the room. Nice way to make it subtle, Captor. Your hand reaches for your kickass blue and red mechanical pencil, and you take a minute (or five) to work out another problem. _God,_ that was embarrassing.


End file.
